


You Weren't the Only One Who Thought of Us That Way

by bumcakes



Category: Bandom, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Boy Kisses, Fluff, M/M, Ryden, Sad, Some angst, like barely by my standards but who knows ur personal tolerance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-08
Updated: 2016-03-08
Packaged: 2018-05-25 13:27:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6196789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bumcakes/pseuds/bumcakes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I'm a fucking idiot."</p>
<p>Ryan can't get out of his head when he is upset, Brendon tries to help him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Weren't the Only One Who Thought of Us That Way

**Author's Note:**

> The title belongs to Modern Baseball from their song "Your Graduation"
> 
> This is my first Ryden piece and it is really short, only 1,499 words.
> 
> It's set in the Pretty. Odd. era as that's a good one in my personal onion. (Hence Brendon's cowboy boots lmao)
> 
> The ending is ridiculously fluffy and cliche, I really surprised myself with that one. I'm happy with this fic and I hope all of you enjoy.

Spencer looks frustrated and Brendon already knows something is wrong with Ryan.

He catches his eye and sighs, blinking slowly, simply tilting his head towards the door to the back lounge.

Brendon nods silently and stands up, wiping his clammy hands down on his pants. He was hoping so badly Ryan would be okay. Not that he minds doing this, God no, he just wishes he wouldn’t have to.

Spencer gives an exasperated sigh as he flops down onto the couch. It still hurts him, he takes it extremely personally when it’s anything but. Ryan always tries to assure him of this, but his behavior is contradictory and Spencer feels it.

The thing is, Ryan pulls away from him when he’s upset, from everyone actually. He works himself up and shuts down, he’s barely aware of the world around him and will flinch away from Spencer when he tries to rub his tense shoulders, startles at Spencer’s soft voice, then continues to ignore him.

Spencer still tries every time. He’s always scared and feels it his duty to calm him, help him, when Ryan simply denies it every time.

Brendon can feel Spencer burning holes into his back with a familiar pained jealousy at the comfort only Brendon seems able to offer Ryan.

Brendon thought Spencer was going to punch him when Brendon had first tried to pull Ryan out of the dangerous hole he had dug himself in his head.

All he had done was take in Ryan’s unfocused eyes, knotted hands, the tense set of his features and sat next to him. He blathered on awkwardly because he knew it was his fault Ryan was like this. He had only known him for a few weeks and he had asked about Ryan’s lyrics.

It was out of line but he felt uncomfortable when he sang them like he was singing from Ryan’s journal. Ryan had gone red with fury before his features contorted into something much more worrying. Spencer had whisked him away from Brendon with distrust in his eyes, laced with hurt on behalf of his best friend.

Brendon felt horrible, he was a few weeks deep in his membership of the band, the longest any of his ventures had lasted, and he had fucked up. He desperately wanted to stay so he followed after some hesitance and found them sitting on the couch in the living room of Spencer’s grandmother’s house. Ryan’s black and studded belt contrasting oddly with the floral pattern.

Spencer was sitting there looking worried and trying desperately to get Ryan to respond. He was whispering urgently and Brendon heard “cunt”, and “oblivious” in obvious reference to Brendon. He looked up at the sound of the door clicking shut and fixed angry eyes on Brendon.  
Brendon ignored him and rushed to sit down next to Ryan saying over and over “I’m sorry, I know I’m an insensitive idiot I’ll never do it again. I say stupid shit all the time so please stop me. I can’t help that I’m really hopeless-”

Ryan’s eyes focused and he blinked, turning his head to look at Brendon. His features smoothed as Brendon’s rambling picked up speed and became even more nonsensical at Ryan’s renewed attention.

Spencer looked stunned, because for the first time in his 16 years of life someone pulled Ryan out of his stupor. He had never seen it even when they were 7 and Ryan’s father had hit him for the first time. All Spencer had done was hug him and cry for him as Ryan’s eyes remained dry and hard set.

Even as Brendon had stopped being the cause of Ryan’s pain was he the only one able to pull him out of it. Some times were harder than others, and he found it harder to find topics of conversation when things weren’t his fault, but he managed.

Sometimes Ryan’s only reaction to Brendon’s presence and steady stream of conversation was the way his eyes would focus on a particular spot instead of seemingly just gazing into the abyss. Or the way when Brendon trailed off his eyebrows furrowed in confusion at the loss of Brendon’s voice.

Ryan never really sought physical comfort the way some did. Including Brendon. When Brendon was upset he bawled and clung to someone, because he was never good at holding emotions in.

Ryan sat still and stoic until he had worked through his feelings. Only when he was really upset did he ever seek Brendon’s passively offered physical comfort.

All he did was leave his hand palm up so that if Ryan needed something to cling to it would be there. He’s only taken it once.

When his father died, Brendon had talked for hours, until his voice and throat were raw and sore and there were increasingly long gaps between his sentences as he kept drifting off.

Ryan’s features had not smoothed no matter how much Brendon talked, his eyes would rarely focus and Brendon had felt so out of control it terrified him. All he could do was talk and he did until he passed out from exhaustion and lack of topics.

He talked about the best snacks for when he got high for two hours, he divided them into categories, quickest, tastiest, most filling etc. If what he said had been written down it would have been as in depth and as long as a college thesis paper.

He fell asleep while he was droning on about the proper cooking time for microwave popcorn and how that took meticulous calculation and therefore could not go under the “easiest preparation” category. When he woke the next morning, his neck had a nasty crick from being draped over the back of the couch and he could feel a finger encircling two of his own.

When he turned his head with a wince he saw Ryan breathing evenly on the couch next to him and looked down to see Ryan’s left pinky wrapped rather tightly around his right hand’s middle and forefingers.

He felt a rush of hope within him, happy something had changed inside Ryan that allowed him to seek help and comfort even in the smallest of ways and sat there until Ryan woke, not daring pry his fingers from his grip.

Now, even though Brendon had seen him this way, dealt with him while he was like this, dozens of times, he was still scared.

His hands shook as he opened the door to the back lounge, and he sighed uneasily and sadly as he saw Ryan there. Unfocused eyes, knotted hands, tense features.

He sat down next to him and said “I’m a fucking idiot.”

Ryan startled like he hadn’t noticed he’d come in and stared fixedly at a scuff on the floor.

This was Brendon’s fault and he hated it. If he had known kissing Ryan would have made him end up like this he would have never done it. Keep his stupid feelings to himself and never upset Ryan.

He read it wrong, Ryan smiling at him, sipping his drink and looking goddamn smitten after he made a horrible pun out of Brendon’s choice of clothing.

His boots were fucking cool okay.

Brendon hadn’t even been insulted at the dig, just entranced by the crinkles in Ryan’s eyes and his heart swelled so much he felt he would die if he didn’t kiss him. So he did, dry and warm. A simple press of two smiles together that left Ryan like this.

“You are.”

Brendon blinked, startled.  
He turned to look at Ryan in disbelief. He never spoke when he was this way. He was staring determinedly in front of himself. “Couldn’t even do it properly.”

Was Brendon fucking hallucinating? “Excuse me?”

Ryan finally turned to look at him. “Just had to catch me off guard, no warning, no lead up, no date.” He had an amused twinkle in his eye and oh fuck him.

He was faking to get Brendon back here. Genius, but rude. Brendon was still shocked, “So you don’t mind that I kissed you?” falling from his lips.

Ryan grinned, “Um, yes? You fucking idiot, I just said, you didn’t do it proper of course I mind.”

“You worried Spencer,” Brendon says accusingly, because he’s still shocked by Ryan not being upset that he keeps blathering on like an idiot and doesn’t take Ryan up on his blatant offer for another chance.

Ryan winces and says, “An innocent casualty, he’ll forgive.”

Brendon smiles.

He looks Ryan in the eye, then flickers his gaze down to his lips. Meeting Ryan’s eyes again in a silent request for permission he leans in, breathing sporadically into the inch of space between them.

Ryan pulls back, shakes his head, then reaches up, cold spindly fingers tracing Brendon’s cheek, reaching around to tangle in the hair at the base of his neck. He pulls Brendon forward, controlling the kiss, and presses their lips together.

Ryan smiles then opens his mouth.


End file.
